I stare down at my dad, then lean over to brush his hair away from his ear.
“I wish you could tell me I'm doing this right.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “I wish you could tell me something. Anything.”
A few minutes pass before I speak again, the lump in my throat growing as reality settles around me. “You need to wake up,” I say. “I can hold things together for a while, but this is your world, not mine. I'm just... borrowing it. Trying not to break anything until you can take it back. But you have to take it back.”
I stare at the ventilator pumping, the soft hiss in rhythm with the beeping of his monitors.
I lean forward and press my forehead to our clasped hands. My eyes float closed, tears stinging my eyelids.
“Please, Papa. Please wake up.”
Lochlan is in the ICU waiting room when I finally leave Dad’s room.
He sits in one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he stares at his phone, looking completely out of place among the anxious families and exhausted nurses. When he sees me, he jumps right up.
“How is he?”
“The same.” I rub my eyes. “Stable is what they keep saying. Like that's supposed to be comforting.”
“It means he's fighting. That should be comforting.”
“No, it just means the machines are working.” I take in a sharp breath and press a hand to my forehead. “Sorry. I didn't mean to?—"
He squeezes my shoulder, and my skin tingles from the warmth of his touch. “You don't have to apologize. Not for this.”
I look up at him, the warmth and comfort in his gaze settling me. There's understanding there, like he gets what I’m going through. Then I remember… he lost his Mom. He does get it. And maybe being here for him is hard, but he’s still with me, supporting me, just like he promised.
But before I can respond, Vincenzo comes down the hallway. He's walking fast, phone in hand, brow furrowed. I didn’t realize he was coming here today.
My stomach drops. Oh my God… unless?—
“What happened?” I ask before he even reaches us.
“We have a situation.” He glances at Lochlan, then back at me. “The Kozlovs made a move on Castellano Shipping this morning.”
Castellano Shipping is one of our protected businesses.They've been paying the DiMicheli family for decades in exchange for protection and the freedom to operate without interference. Dominic Castellano's father made that deal with my grandfather. It's the foundation of how this world works — you pay, you're protected. You're protected, you're loyal. Break that chain, and everything falls apart. And everyone is at risk.
“What did they do?” I ask, pulling him into a corner. Lochlan stands close but doesn’t invade our private conversation.
Vincenzo sighs and looks around in a panic as if he expects that there are Kozlov spies lurking around the waiting room, ready to pounce. “Two of their men showed up at the port at six this morning. They intercepted one of Dominic's shipments, a container of electronics from Taiwan. They took it, Adriana. Just loaded it onto their own truck and drove away.” Vincenzo's jaw tightens. “Then they visited Dominic at his office. Told him that the DiMicheli family can't protect him anymore. That Dominic’s father made a deal with the old boss, but the old boss is dying in a hospital bed. They offered him new terms — he pays the Kozlovs instead of us, twenty percent higher than what he's been paying. If he refuses...” Vincenzo’s voice trails off.
I sigh. “If he refuses, they’ll keep taking his shipments. Bleed him dry until he has no choice but to work with them.”
“Exactly.” Vincenzo leans closer. “This isn't just about Castellano, though. Every business under our protection is watching for our next move. If we don't respond, if we let the Russians steal from our people without consequences, then they'll all start wondering if they should switch sides before they're the next victims.”
My eyes slide to where Lochlan stands. He latches onto my gaze and gives me a nod and a half-smile as if to say, “You know what to do. Time to kick some ass.”
And it empowers me, flooding me with resolve. Because fuck those Russians. One, for taking Dad from us, and two, for even thinking they can compromise our organization. They don’tknow who they’re dealing with. But I’m about to make the introductions. “Where's Dominic now?” I ask.
“At his office. Scared out of his mind. He called me twenty minutes ago. He didn't know what to do.” Vincenzo runs a hand through his hair. “I came straight here when I found out from your mom you were here. We need to respond, but I wanted to hear your thoughts first.”
My thoughts. Because I'm in charge now. Because every decision I make either solidifies my position or destroys it.
“What would my father do?”
Vincenzo hesitates. “He'd send men. Make it clear that Castellano is under DiMicheli protection. The Russians understand force.”
“Wouldn’t that kind of move escalate things?”
